


Our World in a Box

by Favisi



Series: Universes by the Boxful [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU, AU madness, Angst, Canon-Compliant, Crack Treated Seriously, Dark, Gen, Good Omens 25th Anniversary Bang, OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 15:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3902092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Favisi/pseuds/Favisi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the 25th Anniversary Bang.<br/>Art by Kaytara (<a href="http://futureevilscientist.tumblr.com/">futureevilscientist</a> on tumblr)</p><p>When A. J. Crowley returns from buying groceries, the door of the cottage he shares with Aziraphale leads him straight to Hell.<br/>This might complicate celebrating the 25th anniversary of one certain cancelled apocalypse a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our World in a Box

**Author's Note:**

> For the Good Omens 25th Anniversary Bang.  
> The art post is [here](http://futureevilscientist.tumblr.com/post/118352774432/hekateras-my-entry-for-this-years-good-omens/) and I might be fangirling a bit about it because wow, it's beautiful. Make sure to take a look around Kaytara's blog, too.
> 
> Thanks to [Kaytara](http://futureevilscientist.tumblr.com/), [Beth](fishcustardwillsavetheday.tumblr.com), [Mo](http://movite-himosomo.tumblr.com/) and [Lynia](http://lynia-de-faye.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Happy 25th Anniversary, Good Omens Fandom! This is for you.

# Our World in a Box

 

#### Even If It Started Raining

It was a beautiful day.

This spring, every single day had been beautiful: bright and breezy and just the right amount of warm sun.

Considering the ever-fickle English weather, it did seem like a small miracle to England's population.

Aziraphale had concluded his musing about weather how some things were simply worth the cost, now please, I am busy. Stop bothering me and my books and do some evil elsewhere, my dear.

So A.J. Crowley, The Serpent and self-proclaimed master tempter, had left the cottage the two of them shared (with lots of books and a garden full of beautiful and terrified plants) and went to buy groceries for a rather special occasion.

See, 25 years ago, the world and its inhabitants thankfully didn't meet their end in fire and brimstone, and this was a reason to celebrate with the former angel of the Eastern Gate, if Crowley had any say in this.

In itself, going on a short shopping trip was neither a particular evil act, nor destroying Good work, but as he raced down an empty B-road whilst Queen's _We Will Rock You_ blasted obnoxiously loud through the speakers of his Bentley, he deemed it evil enough to slip out of his duties for the day without even bothering to make the day of retail workers a living – pardon the pun – hell.

Crowley was in a jolly good mood: The aforementioned splendid weather was (as mentioned before) wonderful, no pedestrians littered his streets, and while he had been spending some time window shopping he had found a nice vintage and various other delicacies to bring home to the cottage.

Unloading the Bentley would have been challenging enough to warrant two or three trips to the pantry for any lesser man, but being an entity no human could even hope to fully comprehend (some had tried and failed) came with a few perks; Crowley miracled the Bentley shut and the entrance door open before shoving the door out of his way with his elbow and balancing his groceries inside with great care.

„I'm back. Did you miss me?“, he called upon entering what was clearly _not_ their cottage's entrance hall.

Unless Aziraphale had made good use of Crowley being out, something was clearly wrong.

Considering the sheer number of red eyes, toothy grins and forked tails greeting him, Crowley was willing to bet he wasn’t on Earth any more, but a little deeper down instead.

This, he thought, could not be good. The door fell close behind him.

 

 

#### Rant in D Major

SOMETIMES THINGS HAPPEN TO MAKE YOU QUESTION PEOPLE.

SPECIFICALLY, PEOPLES’ SANITY.

ONE MIGHT THINK IT IS NOT TOO MUCH TO ASK TO CONSIDER THE CONSEQUENCES OF DISTURBING THE GIVEN ORDER OF A UNIVERSE.

AS SOMEENTITY CONCERNED WITH THE RESULTING PAPERWORK, I CAN SAY WITH ABSOLUTE CERTAINITY THAT IT IS A GOOD IDEA TO LEAVE ANYTHING POSSIBLY UNIVERSE-UPSETTING ALONE.

IT WOULD MAKE EXISTENCE MUCH EASIER, THANK YOU VERY MUCH POWERS THAT BE.

BUT NO. NO.

I SHALL EXPLAIN IN FURTHER DETAIL SO YOUR SMALL MORTAL MIND CAN KEEP UP:

LIFE IS SHORT AND IT HAS TO END SOONER OR LATER. NO ONE KNOWS THIS BETTER THAN I DO. WHEN ONE INEVITABLY DIES, SEVERAL THINGS HAPPEN.

BUREAUCRATICALLY, OF COURSE. I'M NOT REFERRING TO HUMANITY'S FICKLE BELIEFS, AND I HAVE NO INTEREST IN MORTAL BIOLOGY.

BUT LET US GO ON: AFTER LIFE, A SOUL HAS TO GO SOMEPLACE. WHERE, YOU ASK? THIS IS FOR ME TO DECIDE AND FOR ME TO FILL OUT FORMS FOR. NOW IMAGINE A PLACE FOR EVERY BELIEF, MULTIPLY BY 10, BY 100, BY 1000. WE’RE STILL NOT QUITE THERE, BUT YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I AM TRYING TO SAY: THERE ARE MANY PLACES ONE SOUL COULD GO. FILLING OUT THIS PAPERWORK WOULD KEEP HUNDREDS OF ANGELS BUSY FOR THE REST OF TIME.

THERE IS, HOWEVER, ONLY ONE OF ME. DO YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE AM I TO DO WHEN ONE DIES?

I AM TO ASSIGN AND ESCORT THE IMMORTAL SOUL TO THE RIGHT RESTING PLACE. DOESN’T SOUND HARD? CONSIDER THIS: AS SOON AS PERSONAL MORAL VALUES ARE TO BE CONSIDERED, TOO, COMPLICATED IS A FOND MEMORY. IT'S A GOOD THING I DON'T COMPARE TO HUMANS, OTHERWISE I'D SUFFER QUITE THE HEADACHE AT TIMES.

KNOWING HOW HARD IT CAN BE TO PROPERLY CARE FOR THE SOULS OF THE DEAD, WHY FOR ALL THAT IS CREATION WOULD YOU EVER THINK IT'S A GOOD IDEA TO TIE DIFFERENT UNIVERSES AND DIFFERENT VERSIONS OF PEOPLE TOGETHER?

IF THIS IS SOME KIND OF BIG COSMIC JOKE ON MY BEHALF, I AM NOT LAUGHING. THIS MATTER IS DEAD SERIOUS, AND I AM NOT CONVINCED YOUR BEHAVIOUR IS JUSTIFIABLE.

AND IF YOU CONTINUE TO MAKE MY JOB HARDER THAN IT HAS TO BE, I SHALL BRING THIS MADNESS TO AN END TO RESTORE THE GIVEN ORDER.

STILL, YOU MIGHT NOT LIKE MY WAY OF DOING IT.

...  
I GUESS YOU ARE STILL THE ONLY ONE TO ACKNOWLEDGE MY WORDS.

YOU CANNOT IMAGINE HOW FRUSTRATING THIS IS.

 

 

#### Sing Hallelujah One More Time

„Hello there, Crowley“, said the demon closest to him with a smile that showed an alarming number of teeth, „ got yourself lost?“

That was true, Crowley thought, because as far as he was concerned, he was standing in an unfamiliar (if tastefully, yet intimately decorated) room full of demons lounging on ruby red cushions around a basin filled with dancing flames without any idea how he had ended up there.

“And confused, too”, a sultry voice commented from somewhere behind a red velvet curtain.

„Yeah, that's... right, I think“, Crowley said while trying to keep an eye on every single one of them at once, „in fact, I think I'll be goi-“

“Now wait just a sec, we haven’t seen each other in ages”, Toothy Smile said with a twitch of his tail. Then he pulled Crowley on a cushion. “You’re so busy nowadays, no one will mind if you sit down for five minutes.”

If the hushed whispers were any indication, most demon fire seemed to agree.

“What’s up with this getup, anyway?”, a scantily-clad demon with ram horns sprouting from his forehead asked from where he was sprawling comfortably, “that for one of your mind games?”

Toothy Smile smiled even wider. “That I have to see! You let Abohan watch the other day, why not me?”

“That’s because what we have is special”, the sultry voice commented. She sounded smug.

“What you have”, remarked another demon with flaming red hair, “is disgusting.”

“You jealousy is disgusting, darling”, Abohan said and a few demons started grinning.

“Pleasantries aside”, Toothy Smile said, “what’re you up to nowadays anyway? I get that you’re totally busy and all, but we barely get to talk to you anymore, and you’re the only one down here who can be entertaining.”

That, Crowley thought, was interesting and a little unsettling to hear.

“Yep”, said Red Hair, “It’s _boring_. Like, really fucking boring” she then proceeded to throw herself dramatically on the cushions. The demon with ram horns next to her could barely get his tail to safety in time.

“Watch it”, he said mildly. Red Hair just waved her claws in his direction and this was the end of that.

“I think this is my cue”, Crowley said, “You know how it is – I _am_ awfully busy.”

“Great”, Abohan commented, “now you chased him off.”

Toothy Smile shrugged. “Always busy, curse of the Great and Mighty”, he said, then added with a sly expression: “I’ll remember to stop by and watch you some day. Room 7, it was?”

“Your memory is so bad, I don’t even know. Tell me, how do you get anything done at all”, Red Hair snickered from her cushion.

Apparently, in Toothy Smile’s opinion this could not stand. In the matter of seconds, a passionate debate erupted from the demons.

Crowley was out of the Lounge as fast as a demon heavily loaded with groceries could manage.

He found himself standing in a sterile-looking white corridor.

This section of Hell was entirely unfamiliar to him. Hell was, as a rule of thumb, organized as a maze of dark narrow hallways straight out of medieval times, realistic to the cold wetness of the stonewalls and the feeling of backwardness clinging to them.

Those white clean walls looked like Hell had finally moved with the times and stopped in Office Hell. Even though he had spent some years in the 1990s trying to convince Hell to redecorate in a similar direction, now Crowley did not like it at all.

Taking a unnecessary breath and concentrating, he tried sending himself back to Earth.

It did not work. Instead, he felt like being raced by a car for a mile at full speed and being run over by the very same car right after – his legs gave way and he had to lean himself against the nearest wall for support.

Something was not right. Without a powerful demon holding him and preventing his use of powers, he should have been able to return. Assuming he had done something to cause the wrath or, worse, attract the attention of a Duke of Hell was not a nice thought. Perhaps Hastur had thrown caution in the wind and decided to serve the revenge he was overdue with some 25 years.

Crowley had to find out what was going on here. Still, with no clue other than a room number, his options did not look promising. Even the evacuation drawing he found on a wall did nothing to help, as it only stated _In Case of Emergency, Fight. You Fools._

He did, however, discover it also doubled as a floor plan. Being in Hell was not that worse when you knew where you were going.

Room 7 (signposted Interrogation Room 7) was conveniently located across from interrogation room 8 and between interrogation rooms 5 and 9.

As far as developments went, Crowley did not like this one, either. Had there been another choice besides going in and doing something to finally get a clue about what was going on or walking through Hell for the rest of eternity, he would gladly take it.

As it was, he decided to open the door. A moment later, he regretted his decision.

Inside, Hell looked rather familiar – a piece of medieval Europe put down under. This specific piece was indeed something an inquisitor would describe as interrogation room. It smelled of decay, blood and cleaning products and the light was dim. Torches, from the looks of it.

With a sense of dread, Crowley entered. The room brightened and a moment later he noticed how he wasn’t alone in the room after all.

“Crowley”, Aziraphale said from his spot mounted on the rack in the centre of the room, “always a pleasure seeing you.” His voice sounded thoroughly annoyed.

„What on earth?“, Crowley said. In his surprise, he barely managed to hold onto his groceries.

„Your sense of direction is a little off, my dear“, said Aziraphale. His face was pale in the torchlight and his bright curls looked dull, but otherwise, his corporation didn’t seem to be in a bad shape. „But you don’t need me to tell you that, do you?“

A table next to the rack held all kinds of... instruments. Crowley didn't look closely enough to determine their use. They were clean, however, and as the smell of blood was faint enough to be barely noticeable, there couldn’t have been torture involved, Crowley decided.

That, at least, was something, right?

He decided to come a little closer.

„What are you doing here?“

A strange smile lay on Aziraphale's lips. „Now how many times have we talked about this, my dear?“, he asked.

Now it was Crowley’s turn to be annoyed. “You’re not making any sense, angel. I’d appreciate some enlightenment. Aren’t you all about that?”

Aziraphale’s expression looked blank all of a sudden. „As you wish. Your lot took Earth, transformed all of it into brimstone and hellfire. I wept for all those lives lost, and while I was stunned in my grief you decided that I was to join everyone in eternal damnation. I sure hope you’re feeling enlightened now.“

Crowley blinked. An hour ago, Earth had been fine.

„Okay. That's – that's dark”, he finished slowly.

The angel's face didn’t change. His answer was curt: „That’s a way of putting it, certainly.”

Crowley sighted.

“Well, that was nice. Let’s see if we can get you out of this.”

At his words, Aziraphale drew in a breath. He seemed to look at something behind Crowley’s back.

Crowley stopped dead in his tracks. When he turned around, however, he realized more than he’d have liked.

First, the angel on the rack was not Aziraphale on the rack. It could not be him because that wouldn’t make any sense.

Second, whoever was responsible for the interior design – and Crowley had an idea who that might be – also possessed a sense of humour not just bordering on macabre but defining a new way of disturbing. After spending some time on Earth, he wouldn’t have thought any demon capable of such creative cruelty. Demons, as a rule of thumb, were boring and predictable.

Third, he had been terribly, terribly wrong when he made assumptions earlier. The angel was not wearing a corporation, and he had not lied to Crowley.

For the better part of a minute, Crowley couldn’t look away from the wings mounted to the wall on the right and left of the door.

They were still beautiful, bright and white even in the yellowish light the torches gave off.

Not a single feather was out of place: Someone had groomed the wings, someone had taken the time to put the feathers into place one by one, before putting them on display on the wall with great care.

A shudder ran down his spine, because standing like this, Crowley couldn’t help but think, they must appear to be his. The thought was nauseating.

The angel didn’t interrupt his quiet. He wouldn’t, Crowley knew now. He himself wouldn’t dare, either.

Crowley wanted to say something, but finding the right words seemed impossible now.

Still, one half-formed idea was nagging at him rather persistently. “Say, I take it you owned a flaming sword. What happened to it”, he asked.

The silence on the other’s end lasted a moment too long to not be surprise. “Why are you asking me that?”, the angel asked.

Crowley could imagine the angel’s face clearly. He would look anxious and anticipating... something. Cruelty perhaps, so he’d have a bit of fear in his eyes for good measure, too. Crowley drew himself up. All of a sudden, he felt tired.

“Just tell me, angel”, he hesitated, “I’d promise not to do anything to you, but you won’t believe me anyway.”

The angel’s voice sounded empty. “Trophy case on the wall to your left.”

Crowley placed the groceries on the nearest flat surface and made sure they wouldn’t fall over.

The trophy case opened when he laid his hands on the dark wooden surface.

A small number of things were lying inside. Crowley found three books bound in leather, a chalice, some small trinkets and a long object wrapped in cloth.

When he pulled the cloth aside, a single white feather fell on the ground. Crowley considered it for a moment, before reaching out and picking it up. It was small and soft and without thinking about what he was doing, he pocketed it.

The sword in his hands, he turned to the angel.

“I want you”, Crowley said slowly, “to take this and get out of here.”

At his words, the angel’s eyes widened. A moment later, his face looked guarded and altogether void of emotion.

Crowley dropped the sword. It fell to the floor with a clank while he approached the rack as quickly as he dared.

The bindings were rather simple: Silken strips of fabric with embroidered symbols Crowley didn’t care to read, tied to ribbons at the back of the rack. He only needed to pull slightly for them to fall to the floor in heaps of white fabric.

The angel looked at him strangely.

“Get out of here”, Crowley repeated, “preferably with this sword. Self-defence and all that. You know.”

“What is this supposed to mean”, the angel asked tersely.

“Nothing”, Crowley said and left the angel standing in front of the rack while he turned to the door, “It doesn’t mean anything. I assume you will want to kill me with this. I’d prefer it if you don’t.”

When he left the room, he couldn’t bring himself to look back.  
It didn’t matter anyway. He was no longer in Hell.

 

 

#### A Sign of Three

Aziraphale was a little surprised as he found himself standing in an unfamiliar location.

He had just wanted to go outside and take care of the plants (something Crowley usually did by intimidation, but since Crowley was out doing things of not specified but probably demonic nature, he figured the poor plants outside could use some relaxation).

Thus, the angel was positive that something was rather wrong with the cottage's back door, as he was now standing in Buckingham palace looking somewhat out of place with the watering can still in his hands.

On the other hand, the rather familiar man-shaped entity residing on a sofa wearing only what a bedsheet wrapped around him. How strange.

Aziraphale coughed politely.

„Crowley, why-“, he began as he was interrupted.

„Ah, there you are“, the bedsheeted demon raised one eyebrow and looked him up and down behind his ever-present sunglasses. „You are late. I take it that Miss Claire offered you her special favours as compensation for watering her plants – which is, of course, more important than our current case, I presume?“

Just as Aziraphale attempted to state a most dignified reply, the door behind him opened again and another man entered. He looked entirely unobstrusive and was clad in a nondescript suit, but his expression was one of annoyance as he addressed Crowley.

„Anthony, I am so glad to see you could make time for us mere humans“, said the man in a tone that was flatter than a freshly ironed shirt. Then he turned to Aziraphale and his cool smile became friendlier. „Good to see you, Doctor. I hope you can convince my brother to take this little problem of ours more seriously. It is of interest to the country after all.“

The man sat down and gestured to Aziraphale to do the same. Despite being rather confused, the angel did as he was told.

„You must excuse my lack of table manners, gentlemen. There is more pressing business to attend to.”

Then he started talking. Aziraphale gathered not much from his overly wordy monologue: Apparently, someone had gained access to sensitive data of a certain high-ranking member of parliament and the man wished Crowley, and by extend Aziraphale, to find the culprit and retrieve the data without starting a national conflict. He made himself quite clear on that part.

“She works under an alias”, the man concluded and handed a slim brown folder to Crowley, “and we have reasons to believe that she is a wanted criminal in a dozen countries over the world.”

It was a good thing that Crowley was regarded a deductive genius. Aziraphale was not sure whether this was supposed to be an elaborate practical joke or not.

“Carmine Zuigiber”, Crowley read aloud what was written on the woman’s profile and raised an eyebrow, “never heard of her.”

“Exactly.”, the man in the suit said with a nod. Then he started to talk about the utmost importance of subtlety and the need to be careful around a woman as dangerous as Carmine supposedly was. Crowley made an annoyed sound and Aziraphale was willing to bet he was rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses.

“Would you at least try to take this seriously”, the man hissed and stated, for the third time, that this was a matter of national interest. Aziraphale caught himself not really listening.

“Apologies”, Crowley said in the most deadpan voice he could probably muster, “this is not only the longest briefing I’ve ever had to endure, but also the most boring.”

He looked at Aziraphale, then stood and moved in the direction of the door. “We’re finished, let’s go.”

Aziraphale looked at the man apologetically, but stood up, too.

The man didn’t lose his posture and held out his hand. “Good day, Doctor. Keep him out of trouble, would you?”

“I’m not...”, Aziraphale started to explain but stopped himself when Crowley’s impatient voice called him again. The angel decided to let it slide. In the end, there were more pressing matters than to argue with the man, Aziraphale decided. Maybe Crowley had told him some lie – there could be words later.

Now, it was more important not to lose Crowley, so the angel started following the trail of confusion a demon clad in a bedsheet caused in Buckingham Palace.

He caught up to Crowley just before the demon hailed a taxi.

“Would you mind telling me”, Aziraphale murmured under his breath when the two of them were sitting on the back seat, “what this was all about?”

Crowley stared at him over the rim of his sunglasses. In the semi-shadowy car, his eyes looked brown. “You were there just now, you’ve heard everything. You’re not that smart, but I didn’t think you’d be that stupid, Ezra.”

“This is quite enough”, Aziraphale responded tartly. Enough was enough, after all. “Your behaviour is extremely rude and disrespectful.”

His outburst was rewarded with a speechless Crowley, who sadly did not keep this particular surprised facial expression for too long, but finally made an effort to converse more politely.

The taxi stopped in Soho, and after a short dispute with the driver who, understandably wished to be paid for his services (Crowley, who was not quite as far-sighted as his attitude suggested as bedsheets turned out to have little room for keys or money; they had to rely on Mrs. Shadwell, Crowley’s landlady, for help) they entered Crowley’s flat.

Even if Aziraphale could overlook the strange behaviour and nonsensical development of event around him, seeing Crowley’s flat in a state of disarray with houseplants withering in the hallway was not something he would ignore.

“You, uh, redecorated, I assume?”

Crowley gave him an odd look. “I cleaned up”, he said, “don’t look so surprised. I do that sometimes, you know?”

Aziraphale forced himself to smile. “It looks... nice.”

“You’re lying to me. Stop that already”, Crowley replied, but didn’t sound too bothered.

The demon then proceeded to ignore Aziraphale in favour of taking the folder’s contents and pinning them on a rather large pinboard. If Crowley used a system, Aziraphale couldn’t make it out. Crowley was also still wearing the bedsheet, but as he was currently busy connecting several newspaper articles with red yarn and gleeful excitement, Aziraphale didn’t deem it necessary to remind him of his state of bedsheet.

Instead, he took a closer look at the pinboard.

Being busy, the two of them didn’t notice the sound of the door opening.

When Doctor Ezra Fell returned to the flat he shared with the brilliant consulting detective Anthony J. Crowley, neither did he expect to find Anthony clad in a bedsheet of all things (In hindsight, the bedsheet wasn’t that much of a problem.), nor a perfect doppelganger of himself fussing over the pinboard in the living room.

Ezra stopped dead in his tracks. After returning from his work in Afghanistan and proceeding to run around London solving cases with Anthony, the theologian thought himself a man nothing could surprise anymore. He’d have to consider this attitude, he thought in his daze.

“Anthony”, he finally made himself ask as calmly as possible, “who exactly is this?”

Anthony, in his surprise, dropped the piece of paper he had been holding. The doppelganger turned around to smile at him. “My name is Aziraphale”, he said, “you must be the Doctor everyone keeps confusing me with.”

Normally, Ezra would appreciate everything that could make Anthony speechless. Now he was looking into his own face on somebody who wasn’t him, so Anthony’s astonishment was understandable.

“Aziraphale”, Ezra repeated. “I think I should sit down”, he added.

Eventually, they all sat down.

“There’s one thing I have to know”, Anthony said, “who of you is the older one?”

Ezra groaned. Of all questions to ask, really. On the other hand, what had he expected?

Aziraphale looked a little confused. “Why, me of course”, he replied.

Anthony nodded. “Well, obviously.” He turned to Ezra. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you had a twin you thought dead? In our line of work, this kind of information can be vital.”

“What?”, Ezra and Aziraphale said in unison.

With his patent expression of _lo and behold puny mortal of negligible intelligence, deductive genius Anthony J. Crowley will enlighten you_ , Crowley spoke: “The two of you are physically identical, so obviously twins. Ezra’s surprise could only mean he’d not expected to see you. Estranged, certainly, but there’s no bad blood between you. That he never mentioned you could only mean he thought you were dead.”

Ezra shook his head in annoyance. “Anthony, I have never seen this man before.”

“Impossible. He’s too much like you, not only his appearance, but also his mannerisms, interests and the way he clothes himself.”

Aziraphale coughed politely. “Actually, we are not twins, no. As far as I know, angels cannot be related to humans, anyway.”

Ezra and Anthony sat in stunned silence.

Anthony recovered a little quicker. “Ah. He’s supposed to be institutionalised. That certainly explains some things, but-”

“No”, Ezra insisted, “I’m an only child, I don’t have a brother.”

“Pardon me”, Aziraphale said, but as the two started arguing, nobody seemed to listen to him.

“An elaborate practical joke? Are you trying to get back at me for not tidying up the bloody living room? I did tidy up!”

“No. Anthony, believe me – I don’t know this man, I have never seen him before and I have no idea what we are supposed to be doing.”

“Pardon me”, Aziraphale said again. He did not sound apologetic anymore, but it seemed get the attention of the two men.

“My name is Aziraphale, I am an angel and I have no idea what is going on here. Or how I got here, for that matter.”

“An angel?”, Ezra asked, just as Anthony sneered in the most unattractive manner possible.

“An angel. Sure. Let us know if we can help you to exorcise a demon or something.”

“While I do believe in angels, I don’t think you could be one. We might have to call someone. Sorry”, said Ezra apologetically.

“Oh, don’t worry”, said Aziraphale, “I do realise how this sounds.”

“Wonderful”, Anthony remarked and looked at Ezra expectantly, “I’m up for some tea.”

With a deep sigh, Ezra stood up. “Don’t think this conversation is finished”, he threatened the kitchen appliance Crowley kept on the counter, “and now, how exactly do I...”

It was no use. The thing was a new model – again, and who could possibly know how to use such a thing?

“Anthony”, he called, “I cannot get this stupid thing to work.”

“Is it plugged in?”, came the immediate reply.

“Yes”, Ezra said after checking, “yes, it _is_.”

“Have you tried turning it off and on again?”, was Anthony’s next suggestion.

Ezra tried turning it off and on again. It did not help.

“Would you please just come and help me using _your_ high-tech-monster to make _your_ tea?”

“Maybe I can help”, the doppelganger said and Ezra heard steps on the hallway approaching the kitchen.

“Well, what do you know of things like these?”, Ezra asked when he heard the other opening the door. However, he did not get a reply.

The other man had vanished without a trace.

 

 

####  Heaven is a Place on Earth

The moment he set foot out of the door, Crowley knew he was back on earth.

The hallway, the rooms – everything that had been there was gone and Crowley was standing alone on a lush green meadow beneath a very blue sky. He took off his sunglasses – yes, the sky was really this peculiar bright shade of blue.

The air tasted fresh and clean and Crowley drew a deep breath. He was tempted to simply let himself fall backwards on soft grass without a care in the world, so he did.

It felt peaceful, birdsong sounding from a few trees nearby and a soft breeze tugging on his hair.

He loosened his tie and threw his hand over his face. He had slept in worse places, he decided, and closed his eyes.

His brief visit to Hell had been unexpected, to say the least.

For a few minutes he lay there, contemplating and pondering just what had been so strange about it. Where he had been sent had not felt strange at all, natural even, though lots of things could not have been right. It was a bit like dreaming: something was wrong but whilst sleeping one could not put a finger on it – though Crowley, albeit familiar with dreams, never had any trouble keeping dream and reality separate in his mind.

Now being back on Earth instead of a corridor didn't make any sense, either. Something was going on. He had to find out where he was and then he had to return to the cottage as fast as possible. Maybe the angel could make any sense of this.

A polite cough interrupted his thoughts and Crowley looked up.

There stood Aziraphale, not in the familiar corporation of a light-skinned middle-aged man with a round face and glasses in front of crinkling eyes but in his real true form: Dishevelled white wings, dark skin, bright eyes and light curly hair – after what Crowley had just seen, the angel was _radiant_.

He was also wearing armour and a sword at his side, but Crowley had seen him wear stranger things at times.

„Aziraphale“, Crowley breathed and closed his eyes for a moment. When he listened closely, he could hear the sound of wings shifting. It seemed almost too peaceful now.

„Why, yes. I've been looking for you“, Aziraphale said.

„It's good to be back“, Crowley said. _To see you well and unharmed_ , he left unspoken. More interesting topics were presenting themselves, most important the lack of a corporation. But even that, Crowley decided, could wait.

“So tell me, how did you get out of Hell?”, Aziraphale asked quietly.

Something in his voice made Crowley open his eyes again. The angel’s face looked set in stone.

„Not the faintest. And to tell you the truth, I don't exactly care.“

„But I do, Crowley. I care“, Aziraphale paused, „And I am not the only one.“

This made Crowley frown. Heaven cared, but the distant way grandparents’ siblings cared. They did occasionally send a card and let you inherit some money, but they did not tend to come over and deal with the matter at hand in person.

„Are you quite sure you don’t have anything to tell me“, Aziraphale demanded in a strangely stern voice.

„Well, technically yes. But you don't want to know, so let’s just leave it at that.“

Quicker than a blink, there was a sword pointing at Crowley's neck. The blade was bright in the sunlight and hot flames caressed what looked like heavenly steel. Crowley had seen what swords like this one did to demons and it had not been a pretty sight. He swallowed.

„You will tell me how you got here and what you are here for, and you will tell me now“, the angel demanded.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale and took in the armour the angel was wearing. It wasn’t something he had expected to see again.

“What is going on? If the Arrangement is mute, you could have the decency to tell me.”

Somehow, this was the worst thing Crowley could have said.

The angel did something. Crowley would never find out what and how, but the winds picked up and all of a sudden, the birds didn’t make a sound. He felt the shift of powers in the air. Something was right behind him.

“Turn around”, the angel said testily, “and take a look.”

Behind Crowley, something had torn the fabric of creation. A black abyss was right next to him and there, deep down, humans were writhing in agony and ashes. Burning rivers and dusty wastelands defined a landscape that didn’t deserve the title.

“You shall not poison this paradise as long as I am here. I give you a choice. You may return to Hell, where you and this filth belong, or you can die here”, Aziraphale announced in an icy voice.

Crowley could only stare at him. He couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard. “Are you out of your mind, angel?”

Aziraphale’s face twisted in fury. “Do not speak to me as if you knew me. Your kind taught humanity to sin and endangered paradise. We thought we’d locked you and those you brought down with you in Hell once and for all, but it seems...”, the angel trailed off.

Crowley peeked down again. Whatever this was supposed to be, it didn’t look friendlier on a second glance.

He really, really did not want to go down there. On the other hand, being slain by flaming sword sounded slightly worse than eternal damnation.

“You’re not joking?”, he asked again.

In response, the sword came closer to his neck. He felt the heat of the flames on his skin, ready to consume him and turn him into ashes and dust. Hell, Crowley thought, was friendlier than this angel.

So Crowley did the sensible thing and let himself fall backwards.

 

 

#### A Short Break-In

Crowley landed on a hard surface. He picked himself up, expecting to be surrounded by hellfire, tormented souls and power-hungry fellow demons. The feeling of despair and bureaucracy Hell generally emanated, however, remained absent.

When he took in his surroundings, it was obvious why: He was standing in a rather dusty cellar illuminated by torches. The cellar was also, he noticed, full of crates and barrels and several other kinds of furniture.

Brushing dust off his suit, Crowley took a closer look. The cellar seemed to include a smithy for some reason or another. He’d try to make a joke about interior design had he been in a better mood. Instead, Crowley decided to poke around the cellar a bit.

Further investigation resulted in the discovery of a ladder that seemed to lead to a hatch. This hatch did, fortunately, lead to an airier room with more barrels, a table and two doorways. Unfortunately, at the table was sitting someone who was certainly not happy to see him.

„You should not be here“, commented a man who was, Crowley noted as the stranger stood, tall and possessed a rather sturdy frame. He did not look welcoming with his sword drawn, either.

„Er, I was just on my way out“, Crowley answered with his hands outstretched in what was hopefully a peaceful gesture while he took a step back. He nearly walked into the anvil standing next to the nearest doorway,

„This is just a minor misunderstanding“, he tried again. The man looked not convinced. They must surely look hilarious, Crowley thought in passing a long table. A tiny brown fox snarled at him when he arrived in the front hall, but as he finally reached what was hopefully the entrance door he didn’t care.

When he opened the door and let himself out, he heard birdsong for a split second. Then, Crowley took another quick step forward and closed the door in disbelief.

This was his old hallway. He was in London again.

 

 

#### Paradise Wanted

Aziraphale found himself standing in some sort of empty café, the sound of a bell ringing faint in his ears.

“I’m sorry, but we’re closing”, someone said from behind the counter. The voice sounded vaguely familiar.

“That’s, er, that’s quite alright. I’ll just see myself out”, Aziraphale said.

“Oh, wait. Sorry, I, er – I didn’t know it was you!” The rustling from behind the counter subsided and someone emerged. It looked like Crowley’s corporation, less ten years of age and the sunglasses, but wearing a green apron, a friendly smile and what could be considered an embarrassed expression. “Welcome to _Cloud Nine_. What can I get you, Mr. Fell?”

Aziraphale smiled at the young man who was not Crowley. “I’m sorry, you must take me for Mr. Fell. I’ve never met him personally, but I imagine we look rather similar.”

The man – Aziraphale was not surprised that his name badge said Anthony – looked at him more closely, and a little bit disappointed.

“Oh. Sorry, I guess. You look pretty much alike, I’d say”, Anthony replied.

“Don’t worry about it, as I said, it happens. Well, I’ll stop bothering you. Have a nice evening.”

“Wait. I, well, I’m sorry. Please, take a seat and have a cup of tea, maybe a few scones if you’d like. It’s on the house”

Aziraphale considered this offer. He should, by all means, decline, but a cup of tea did sound tempting.

“Please. I insist.”

The angel smiled. “Well, yes. Thank you.”

While Anthony busied himself with some appliance behind the counter, Aziraphale took a seat and looked around. The café was rather nice, he thought, warm earthy colours and tastefully furnished, if a tad barren if you asked him.

“What kind of tea would you like? Earl grey maybe, if I had to guess”, Anthony asked him.

Aziraphale nodded and a few quiet minutes later, a cup filled with hot tea was put in front of him.

“Here you go”

“Thank you. Would you like to sit down and keep me company for a few minutes?”, Aziraphale asked.

“Yes – well, if I don’t bother you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous”, Aziraphale said, “of course you won’t bother me.”

The man grinned at him and slid in the seat across Aziraphale. “You know, on second glance, it’s ridiculous. You look similar, certainly, but you don’t look the same.”

“Still, you’d have to look closely to know that, I imagine”, Aziraphale noted with amusement in his voice.

Anthony shrugged. “That might be right.”

“Do you know each other well?”

“I don’t know him that well. Well, everyone who ever bought a book at _Paradise Lost_ has talked to him before.” Somehow, he sounded a little crestfallen, Aziraphale noticed.

“So I take it you’d like to know him better?”, he guessed.

Anthony looked at him in surprise, then smiled sheepishly. He seemed not to realise that he had started to fiddle with a corner of his apron. “I’m afraid I’m not sober enough to have this conversation.”

Alcohol did seem to loosen his tongue, however, because after a few drinks – also on the house as Anthony apparently owned the Café – Aziraphale learned that this Mr Fell did not only own a large bookstore, but also the most beautiful blue eyes Anthony had ever seen.

“And he’s so nice. Really bloody nice, well, if he isn’t being angry at some idiot molesting girls in his store. Then he’s hot as... as... damn.” At this point, Anthony proceeded to let his head fall on the table, so he sounded a little muffled. “Bloody fucking hell. I’m hopeless.”

Aziraphale resorted to pat his arm. In his state of drunk, he nearly missed a cup on the table. “Don’t worry about it, my dear. Love is ineffable, I’d say.”

“True. Still, it sucks”, Anthony said with the air of someone who was at the verge of drowning himself in sorrow, or whiskey.

Aziraphale thought about that for a bit. Then, he had a brilliant idea if he were to say so himself: “You could tell him how you feel, how about that?”

Anthony made a noise that sounded like a laugh mixed with a cough. “He’s older than me. And probably not into men. And it’s a bad idea. I thought about it.”

“You’re being silly. It’s love, what could possibly go wrong?”, Aziraphale asked and smiled brightly at the man.

Anthony looked at him flatly, then groaned. “This is not helpful. Why are you not being helpful?”

At this, Aziraphale bustled. “I am! If you don’t tell him, how could he know? So it comes down to telling him, I say.”

“Because I’m afraid”, said Anthony. He was very quiet all of a sudden.

“Of love?”

“No.” Anthony lifted his head again to stare at nothing in particular. “Well, yes. What if he says no?”

Aziraphale was silent for a moment. “You’re right. Still, you should tell him. Maybe he likes you, too.”

“I’m not so sure that he’d like me”, Anthony said. He sounded sad.

This, Aziraphale decided, could not stand: “Well, if I were him, I’d be stupid not to like you.”

“But you’re not him.”

“No. Oh, sod it! Look at it this way: You don’t have to tell him. Spend the next months questioning everything and. Well. Life is strange and life is... life. It ends sometime. Humans live awfully short lives.”

Anthony seemed to consider this. “This might be right”, he said slowly, “but still. I don’t think I could tell him.”

Aziraphale sighted. “I can’t blame you for that. But still. It’s not good to see you unhappy.”

The man nodded in response. “I don’t want to be unhappy anymore, either.”

“Yes”, Aziraphale said, “that I understand.”

After that, they fell in silence for a while.

Until Anthony decided that yes, now it was really time to go home, they sat together in a dark café to keep each other company.

 

 

#### Welcome to My World. Enjoy Your Stay

Still tipsy, Aziraphale didn’t immediately notice that the street he’d stumbled on was more of a dark alley than a well-lighted street in Soho.

He did, however, notice one difference: The air, heavy with ashes and dust, reeked of decay.

The smell made him sober up rather quickly.

“Look at that, who have we here?”, his own voice asked. It sounded strange, however, curious but careless and with an icy undertone he did not like.

Aziraphale turned around. In the alley stood two other entities. One did indeed look like him, the other resembled Crowley.

“A lonely angel, from the looks of it”, said Crowley. His eyes, not hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, seemed to glow yellow in the dim light and his smile was not friendly at all.

“Then I think it’s my turn”, not-Aziraphale said gleefully, “You think they’d get smarter with all the casualties, but no. Maybe they thought we’d let him slide because he looks a little like me.”

Not-Crowley made an agreeing noise from the wall he was leaning against.

Before Aziraphale could say a word, his counterpart was right before him.

“It was nice seeing you” were not the last thing Aziraphale heard before he was stabbed in the chest.

With his corporation destroyed, he was only vaguely aware of something along the lines of-

WHILE I KNEW YOU WERE ABOUT TO DO THAT, I CANNOT HELP BUT ASK MYSELF WHETHER YOU REALISE THAT THIS WON’T KILL HIM. MORE IMPORTANTLY, DEATH IS A DOOR.

 

 

#### Another Day

Aziraphale opened his eyes to a few clouds on a blue sky.

His wings laid open, stretched comfortably on soft grass, and if dying was like this, he could've done worse.

Of course, being stabbed in a dirty alley by someone who claimed to be a different version of yourself was far from ideal, but some things you simply couldn’t chose.

Aziraphale sighted softly and tried not to think too hard about that.

„Are you awake?“, asked a voice next to him. It sounded oddly familiar, and when Aziraphale turned his head to face the other entity, he realized why.

Next to him sat someone who was – obviously – an angel. His form was slender, his skin dark and his tousled wings of a most brilliant white. Dark hair fell into his face and his cheekbones were rather good if one asked Aziraphale. The kind look of the angel’s brown eyes made him think of Heaven and laughing children and refugees sheltered, and this was the moment he realized that he was not dead but – again – someplace he had no right to be.

„You had me worry there for a moment”, the other angel continued, “what with lying there like you’d fallen from the sky.”

„No, no. Don’t worry, I'm just... passing through, you could say.“, Aziraphale replied and considered his situation for a moment. “I think I got myself lost.”

“Oh”, the other angel replied. “That is not good.” He seemed to consider the situation for a moment. “On the other hand, you got lost at the most beautiful place in all of creation.”

That was certainly not exaggerated, Aziraphale thought. He remembered Eden fondly, but remembering was not the same as seeing the vibrant colours for oneself, smelling the sweet scent of the flowers and listening to the birds singing songs without a care in the world.

“Yes”, Aziraphale agreed, “I would say it is quite a sight.”

„Ah. Yes, I am glad I was assigned this post“, the angel’s smile was the most beautiful thing Aziraphale had ever seen, „ this word is the most fascinating thing.“

„I think I understand“, said Aziraphale, „ I'd enjoy a post like this very much, too. But I imagine there are many dangers to this peaceful place.“

„Not as such, no. The humans don’t do anything to disturb the Garden. But don’t think it’s boring – even just standing guard, they are full of surprises. I wonder how they do that – beyond my imagination, really“, the angel said with quiet excitement.

“So there is nothing to be afraid of?”, Aziraphale asked carefully.

“What do you mean? There’s nothing here that could do any harm.”

Aziraphale hesitated. “What about the Fallen?”

“The Fallen? I’ve never heard that particular expression. What’s the Fallen?” The other angel looked confused, but curious.

“Uh... nevermind. I seem to be rather misinformed.” He forced himself to smile “Anyway, there’s no reason to worry, what with you guarding the Garden and all that.”

„Thank you. - It's not only from a sense of duty, though. I'd do anything to keep the Garden as it is. Were my death what is necessary to protect this beauty, I would not hesitate to do what had to be done.“ The angel looked deep in thought for a moment. “Why are you asking?”

Aziraphale laughed. It sounded false in his ears. “Oh, just questioning. Theoretical interest, I presume one could say.”

„The thought of God's creation being... changed in any way – it is not a good thought.“

„Well“, Aziraphale forced himself to smile, „I'm sure nothing will happen.“

This seemed to put the angel in a better mood. „I'm sure you're right. After all, this is why I'm to stand guard.“

They said nothing for a few moments.

„Say, what's your name? I have never seen you before.“

„ Aziraphale.“

“Pleasure. I suppose it’s my turn to introduce myself”, the other angel said and did just that with a warm smile. Aziraphale smiled back, then closed his eyes, knowing he would never forget.

They fell in silence. Birdsong and a calm breeze did nothing to deter the utter calm atmosphere and the two angels sat close together and watched as the colours of the setting sun turned the world red and gold and violet.

 

 

#### The Good, The Bad and The Ineffable

In the blink of an eye, the Garden was gone.

„I must say, I’ve had quite enough of this!“, Aziraphale exclaimed, “What in the name of – what is going on here?”

He was standing in yet another unfamiliar room, a living room by the looks of it.

In front of him, a boy of maybe fourteen with bright blue eyes and brown hair sat on a couch and looked at him with a curious expression.

„Hi, I’m Jesse. I’ll be sending you back home if you could hold still for a second.”

Aziraphale looked at him. This was unexpected, to say the least.

“Excuse me? What is going on?”

The boy huffed in annoyance. “Let’s keep this short or I’ll miss my show: There’s much going on and we don’t have much time. Listen, you must’ve noticed that you’re jumping across different universes – this is why you’re here and another you is taking Crowley out for dinner right now. A friend of mine told me it’s important to pick you up and sent you back to your world and that this is really important for the balance of things, or something. Talk about cryptic.”

Perplex, the angel stared at Jesse. “So where exactly am I?”

“In our living room. Before you ask, Different You and Crowley adopted me, because I’m the Antichrist and things get strange around me sometimes.” He rolled his eyes. “Can I sent you back now? Please?”

“Er. That – well, that’d be very nice of you, Jesse. Thank you.”

“Yeah. No big deal”, the boy said. “Bye.”

A moment later, the world vanished. What, for Heav... what the heck had that been about, Aziraphale asked himself.

 

 

#### Slightly Unlawfully Good

Of course, Aziraphale was glad to return to Heaven and its spheres and joy and holiness, especially after eventful hours of being subjected to invasive questions, stabbing and conversations too personal to think about without the influence of alcohol.

Still, when he had been now standing in an airy room in front of the Metatron with mixed feelings about the whole ordeal.

The Metatron, however, had been pleased to see Aziraphale still alive and unscathed, if not exactly in a corporation. Apparently, Heaven had been in an uproar about a certain sort of incident that caused universes shifting together and all sorts of nasty trouble. With Aziraphale being one of the centres the universes shifted around, this explained a lot of thing.

For example, it explained why he was to stay in a locked room for his own safety.

“When we realised that a shift can be activated only if you open any sort of doorway or gate and move through, we decided it was best for you to stay somewhere with no risk of being transported away to some other universe”, a black-skinned angel clad in light blue robes who had introduced himself as Eniel explained to Aziraphale as they arrived in the room.

The room itself was nice and airy, though sparsely furnished. They sat down on two armchairs, feathers rustling and the ring of keys on Eniel’s belt clinking softly. Then Eniel pulled what could technically be considered a notebook out of the robe’s folds and looked at Aziraphale.

“The Metatron decided that you are to be in the know”, Eniel said quietly, “maybe your experiences can help us to decide how to proceed with the matter at hands. Do you have any questions?”

Aziraphale considered this. There were things he wanted to know, some more desperately than others, but a general idea of the incident that caused all this trouble would be preferable. Eniel, though distant, seemed friendly enough to provide this information if asked nicely.

Aziraphale asked nicely, and Eniel did tell him some things:

“After returning to Heaven 25 years ago, the Metatron reflected on your words for years. He did not seem to know whether you were right, but as you might not be wrong, bringing judgement day would have been a terrible mistake. From what I gather, the Metatron searched for enlightenment – Heaven needs to know what to do.”

The angel paused and looked at Aziraphale with questioning eyes. “What do you think we are supposed to do? Is it God's will for us to guide humans, or are they to be left alone in this dark world, without hope for paradise at the end of days?“

“I, er... don’t you think another angel could answer a question like this just as well?”

“Of all angels in Heaven, you spent the most time down there. But on the other hand, your judgement might be clouded. Nonetheless, I would like to hear your opinion on the matter.” Eniel hesitated. “It is not my place to question the Metatron.”

“So you don’t?”

“In hindsight, it might have been wiser to consider other actions. Somehow, the Metatron found this machine in the deeper spheres. It is a work of God and it enables angels to observe not just all of creation, but all versions of creation that could be. We have been looking for answers for all of us.“

“What does this have to do with people being transported from one universe to another?”, Aziraphale wondered.

Eniel’s wings lowered in embarrassment. “We do not know for certain. The inner workings of the machine are a mystery to us. Apparently, the machine was focussed on several individuals and made them the centre of the happenings.”

Several individuals? This sounded not good, not good at all. “Is anyone else under the machine’s influence?”

“As it happens, yes. The demon, Crawly, has been influenced by this machine, too. But you need not worry”, Eniel smiled brightly, “the humans are safe. Even highly potent individuals like Adam Young appear to remain in stasis and not affected by the machine.”

Eniel stood. “If there is nothing else, I will return to the Metatron now.”

“Wait-“, Aziraphale said and grasped Eniel’s sleeve, “Just – er, I do have one last question.”

Eniel smiled and seemed not disturbed by the fingers clinging to the fabric, “I will tell you what I know.”

“So Crow- the demon. Is he still in the machine?”

“Yes. We do not know yet if we can manage to extract him. On the other hand, earth will be better off without his influence, so should he happen to remain in another universe altogether, it would not be a loss. The most important thing is that you are back safely.”

Aziraphale let go of Eniel’s robe and folded his arms in front of his chest.

“Well then, when do you think I could return to Earth? Humanity must be guided, doesn’t it?”

“As soon as this matter is dealt with, you will be corporate again. Then, you are free to leave Heaven and return to Earth.”

The angel left and pulled the door close. Locks clicked in place. Aziraphale waited until the steps subsided, then he took a deep breath and pulled the keys he had taken from Eniel’s belt out of the folds of his own robe.

That one had been easier than he’d anticipated. Sleight of hand could be rather useful, it seemed.

He let himself out of the room and considered his situation. He needed to find the machine, help Crowley somehow (for the Arrangement’s sake, of course) and be wary of doorways.

 

It was a blessing, Aziraphale thought while he was sneaking through the halls of Heaven, that nobody had ever thought about installing a guard routine.

Naturally, it was never a necessity as angels who fell could not return to Heaven and those who had access to the spheres would never do anything to harm their brothers and sisters.

Aziraphale himself, of course, did not intend to do any harm, either. He was, after all, an angel, and hardly changed by several millennia on Earth.

He was just… – helping the Metatron to set things right.

Yes, that was it, Aziraphale decided, setting things right. Yes.

And to do that, he had to find the ominous machine they had mentioned.

How hard could that be?

 

 

#### TO BE FRANK, THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS

The door behind Crowley fell shut with a loud noise.

Crowley was standing in a great hall full of people sitting on long tables and now concentrating their attention on the most interesting thing in the room – Crowley. Which was strange, considering hundreds of candles floating in the air everywhere.

An old man behind a lectern met his gaze and cleared his throat:

“As I said, while we regret that personal matters prevent Mr. Lockhart from starting to teach, I am glad to announce the arrival of our new teacher for Defence against the Dark Arts. Professor Crowley.”

At once, the children in the hall started talking excitedly. Some clapped their hands, but most were busy discussing this change of plans with enthusiasm reserved for students and small dogs.

Not sure what he was supposed to be doing, Crowley stood rooted to the spot. He was to be a teacher.

After being to Hell, to a strangely twisted version of Earth, the bloody middle age, his own flat populated by a demon who was convinced that Crowley was his best friend forever (and thus clearly out of his mind), he was now standing in some sort of school and this man wanted him to teach children to defend themselves against dark arts.

Crowley couldn’t help but smile. This would be fun. It was also rather ironic.

 

 

#### Have You Tried Turning it Off and On Again?

The machine itself seems innocent enough, Aziraphale concluded.

It was located deep in Heaven’s structure, ingrained in the fabric of creation that tied the spheres together. To find it had taken a long time, and to wait until Metatron left it alone had taken even longer, but now Aziraphale was finally able to get close enough to do something.

Various screens on the wall seemed to be connected to the device and it had lots of buttons and levers on its surface. To him it looked like most other technical implement, which was equal parts comforting and nondescript.

He took a closer look at the screens: One of them showed two people sitting across each other at a restaurant table, another Crowley at the business end of a flaming sword. There was Jesse, looking younger and afraid.

Adam Young, holding a sword in his hands to face a great terrible beast, some sort of dragon or so it seemed.

His own vacant eyes staring at something.

Anthony handing a piece of French chocolate cake to someone while blushing a little beneath the tanned skin of his face.

Aziraphale, standing in a lecture hall full of students.

A red-headed woman walking on high heels down bloody streets.

A child, kneeling in ashes and weeping.

An angel, sitting in a garden in the golden light of the setting sun.

A serpent in a tree, lazily dangling next to forbidden fruit. It seemed to smile.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Surely, there had to be something he could do. Granted, his grasp of electronics in its entirety consisted of making sure the device was plugged in correctly and then consulting the manual to make sure he wasn’t destroying anything important by accident.

The machine did not seem to come with a manual, so he took a deep breath, then pressed a button at random.

Nothing happened.

The sliding buttons – if they had a name, Aziraphale was beyond caring – could be used to zoom in or out of the picture, depending on direction of pulling them.

It was no use, Aziraphale decide after trying several buttons and various combinations without getting much of a result. Maybe it would help to have a look around.

He started investigating: The screens were connected to the machine through various thick chords. The machine itself looked complicated, but that was nothing new. It seemed, however, to be plugged in the wall. Now this was something Aziraphale knew what to do with: He grabbed the chord and pulled.

A sound he hadn’t realised being there suddenly stopped. For a second, the screens went blue, then black, then the colour faded out to grey.

Aziraphale was standing in front of the machine, the plug in his hand and at a loss of what to do next. Maybe restarting the device would help? At any rate, he could certainly not leave the machine like this.

A moment later, the silence was gone, replaced by a very subtle, quiet humming noise. The screens resumed showing various people of different ethnic backgrounds in different parts of the world, changing their focus points every now and then. Well, Aziraphale thought to himself, that could have been worse.

Now if only Crowley had returned where he belonged and if Aziraphale managed to get himself a body in the near future, things were finally starting to look up again.

 

 

#### Burning Bridges

Tremors shook the castle.

Crowley took in his surroundings: The students he had been about to reprimand for running around the hallways were gone in a blink, as was Peeves (which was a shame, Crowley thought, as especially his mischievous streaks had been amusing. Peeves had been the reason why the students had been running). Something was going on, and after spending some time in Hogwarts, Crowley could safely assume this was not the normal kind of strange.

Far away and deep, deep down, a low grumbling sound resonated.

The floor gave way and began sliding to the side. As Crowley struggled to keep his footing on the slanted floor, the windows bent out of shape and filled the air with rattling of bursting glass. Sharp shards fell to the floor.

Crowley stumbled, but managed to regain his footing soon enough to dodge a large piece of ceiling that decided to fall down above his head and crush the knight’s armour on his right on the way down.

That's it, he decided, possibly being flattened by architecture was not worth staying to find out he was immune to big chunks of rock and cement.

He hurried down the corridor and tore open the door to the stairways not a moment too soon: Another piece of the ceiling came down and suddenly the air was full of dust and noise.

All that was missing to complete the catastrophic flair, Crowley thought, was Hastur appearing out of nowhere to start throwing things at him whilst making a really menacing face.

Sadly, faced with a crumbling castle all around him, the thought wasn’t quite that funny.

Falling through a floor that suddenly vanished beneath his feet wasn’t that funny, either.

Then the world around Crowley turned white.

 

 

#### Conversing with DEATH

Around Crowley, everything was white. Or maybe everything else was just nonexistent. Who knew.

Time didn’t seem to exist anymore, either.

At first, he had tried to walk around a bit, which was a rather frustrating endeavour as it didn’t make a difference because he didn’t get anywhere.

Sitting down on nothing after spending several millennia on Earth was strangely disorienting, too.

Lying down on nothing was even stranger. Even sleeping proved impossible.

If he wasn’t already dreaming, that is. Crowley had dismissed the thought, but after the dissolving school, he wasn’t sure of his ability to keep dream and waking apart anymore.

He pinched himself. It hurt. Whatever this was, the lack of surrealism where pain was concerned could use some work.

CROWLEY.

Lately he was hearing voices, too, which was always a good thing while floating in possibly nothing. Sadly, this voice was not soothing at all.

CROWLEY. I AM DEATH.

Hello Death, Crowley thought, I think I am hallucinating. Or possibly going mad.

The voice said nothing for a second. VERY FUNNY. BUT YOU ARE NEITHER INSANE NOR HALLUCINATING.

Someone stood in front of him. It was impossible to say where this someone had come from, or if Crowley had simply been not observant enough to notice. DEATH seemed to be rather thin and was dressed in black ripped jeans, black boots and a black hooded jacket. Though one should practically see DEATH’s features in the bright white light, all Crowley could make out were dim reflections of light where eyes should be.

“If this is you saying I’m dead, you’re being very considerate”, Crowley said for lack of anything else to say. How did one speak with DEATH?

POLITELY, I SUGGEST. YOU ARE NOT DEAD, EITHER.

Crowley pondered that for a moment. “That’s good to know, I guess. Still, it’s not very helpful right now.”

YOU CAN HEAR MY WORDS AND YOU ARE LISTENING TO ME. THIS IS AS HELPFUL AS YOU COULD POSSIBLY BE.

“I don’t think I want to know.”

THAT DOESN’T MATTER. TECHNICALLY, YOU ARE IN A STATE BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, SO I’M TAKING THE LIBERTY OF CONVERSING WITH YOU.

“I feel honoured, really”, Crowley hurried to say and tried his best to not say anything about cats and physicians.

YOU HAVE BEEN SUBJECTED TO STRANGE HAPPENINGS THAT ARE ALSO CONCERNING ME.

“This world-travelling was strange, sure. But I don’t see how it’s of your concern.”

THE UNIVERSES ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BEHAVE THAT WAY, IN CASE YOU DIDN’T KNOW.

“Well. I take it more people than strictly necessary are making universe travelling their hobby now.”

ACTUALLY, IT’S JUST YOU AND THE ANGEL AZIRAPHALE.

Crowley thought about that for a moment. “Oh. I am so very glad the humans are safe”, he managed to say with a surprisingly los amount of sarcasm in his voice.

“I take it the angel’s making lots of friends all over the universes, huh? How comes that it’s just us?”

I AM NOT SURE HE WOULD AGREE WITH YOU. STILL. WHAT HAPPENS IN EVERY UNIVERSE IS **WRITTEN**. THE TWO OF YOU MIGHT JUST BE FUN TO WRITE ABOUT. I DO NOT KNOW AND I DO NOT CARE – THERE IS MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA ABOUT AND I’D KEEP IT THIS WAY FOR YOUR SAKE.

Crowley did try not to think to hard about that, though DEATH was not finished talking yet:

BUT AS INTERESTING AS HIGHER POWERS WITH TERRIBLE HANDWRITING MANIPULATING A SMALL PART OF CREATION IS, THERE IS SOMETHING ELSE TO BE DONE. YOU MUST TALK TO SOMEONE.

“Can’t you talk... er... Never mind. I’d love to, but as I’m currently not technically anything I’m not really able to do anything about that.”

THIS SHALL NOT BE A PROBLEM. WHEN YOU RETURN, MAKE SURE TO TELL THE ANGEL AZIRAPHALE THAT IT IS NOT A GOOD IDEA TO FIDDLE AROUND THINGS YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND AND THAT HIGHER POWERS ARE WATCHING. WHEN YOU TELL HIM TO CONVEY THIS MESSAGE, HE WILL KNOW WHAT TO DO.

Well, this seems simple. When do you think I can get back, Crowley intended to say. But DEATH was gone. In DEATH’s stead, a door stood in front of Crowley. It seemed to be made from wood and resembled the entrance door to the cottage.

It wasn’t locked.

 

 

#### An Ending (OF SORTS)

Upon entering the entrance hall of the cottage, the first thing Crowley did was using a miracle to make a new pair of sunglasses appear on his face. His ruined clothing and untidy hair were replaced with his usual attire as well. Finally, he felt a bit in control.

He found Aziraphale in the garden of their cottage. The angel was talking to the plants, a watering can in his hands and a friendly smile on his face. Ink stained his jumper’s sleeves and the afternoon sun caught on his skin and made his curls glow.

“You’re back”, Aziraphale said. The angel looked different, a little thinner and slightly older and his eyes were brighter than Crowley remembered. Still, he knew the expression of worry on Aziraphale’s face.

“Yes”, Crowley hissed in answer, because he finally was.

This night, they didn’t talk about what happen, because that could wait for tomorrow. Now, it was a surprisingly nice evening – as nice as it could possibly get after spending an eventful day doing all kind of ridiculous things.

Sitting in their garden and enjoying a few bottles of wine seemed the most sensible course of action.

“What do you think”, Aziraphale worded carefully somewhere between bottle six and seven, “do you think the world – hypothetically, of course – could do without us? Exist without any external good or evil influence?” He then proceeded to nip at his wine and stare aimlessly into the vague direction of the setting sun.

Crowley blinked. In his inebriated state, it took a little longer to find the right words.

“This is stupid. Good is always present and Evil doesn’t sleep”, he blinked again and frowned. “Or the other way round. Or something, you know”, he waved his hand.

Aziraphale nodded. “Of course. You’re right, of course. It’s our _purpose_ and I’m questioning it. Silly me.”, he stifled a laugh, “I think I had quite enough wine, wouldn’t you say?”

Crowley pondered that for a few quiet moments. “Still. We could probably go on a holiday, being a bit lazy.” Laziness was a cardinal sin, after all. Sinning was bad, which was exactly what a demon was allowed to do. As for the angel... “You could go with me. Make sure I don’t do evil behind your back. The Arrangement, and somesuch. I guess.”

The angel looked at him with bright eyes in the fading sunlight. He looked sober all of a sudden.

“It _is_ an important duty of mine, isn’t it?”

“Then let’s see where it takes us.”

They sat together quietly until darkness fell around them and the stars began to twinkle far away in the vast emptiness of space. This side of the world was not perfect but peaceful, and anything else could wait until tomorrow. It was promising to be a very nice day.

WHILE THIS IS NOT THE END, I DO SUGGEST WE LEAVE THIS WORLD ALONE NOW. THERE ARE, AFTER ALL, LOTS OF THINGS LEFT TO BE SEEN.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this!  
> As there's more to this story, I'm making this part of a series - I will add content some time.  
> But later, most likely, as real life is being mean to me right now. On a related note, my sincerest apologies for the delay. 
> 
> Love, Favisi


End file.
